


Arctic

by Zai42



Series: October 2020 [22]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: 174 spoilers, Horror, M/M, Mild Gore, Undead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27145465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/pseuds/Zai42
Summary: “I’m cold,” he whispers, like he does every night. “Zolf, it’s so cold.”Prompt: Hypothermia
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Series: October 2020 [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946893
Comments: 24
Kudos: 54
Collections: A Wilde Ride October Collection





	Arctic

There’s always a price, for these things. Zolf would have paid it, a thousand times over, but in the end it wasn’t his to pay.

Oscar’s hair is white, now, his eyes a washed out grey, like the sky before snow. He has been fair and thin since before they made it to Japan - too much time indoors, too much rain, too little sleep, too many neglected meals - but now he is pale, sunken, blue-grey like frostbite touching the hollows of his cheeks and the shadows beneath his eyes.

They brought him back. He was back, back with Zolf, and he had smiled and made a joke about how he usually _liked_ being impaled, actually, so wasn’t this funny, haha.

Oscar curls slowly against Zolf, staring at him with pale, luminous eyes. His hands are like ice where they touch him. “I’m cold,” he whispers, like he does every night. “Zolf, it’s so cold.”

And Zolf gathers him close, spreads his palms along his back, tries to rub some life back into his bloodless skin. They sleep with a fire roaring in the hearth by the bed every night, now, under as many quilts as Zolf can bear. And still, Oscar wakes in the night, his breath visible in the moonlight, shivering madly as if he had never left the frozen wasteland he had died in.

Or it has never left him.

Zolf’s hands find the scar on Oscar’s back. What color had his eyes been, when Zolf had found him? In his memory they are pearly grey, but that can’t be right. He can remember the scene with crystal clarity - he remembers being surprised that Oscar was still in one piece, given the size of the wooden spine that had gone through him. He remembers how bright the gore had been against the snow, almost pretty. He remembers the blank, glassy look in Oscar’s eyes, but their color has faded from his memory. In his mind, Oscar Wilde has always had colorless eyes.

He runs his fingers along the gruesome gnarls of scar tissue on Oscar’s back. He thinks it must interfere with finding Oscar’s pulse, because he can never feel his heartbeat when they lie like this. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Arctic [podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27595685) by [KD reads (KDHeart)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDHeart/pseuds/KD%20reads)




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